No Longer There
by Mrs. Laurel Lupin
Summary: Lydia's life takes a turn for the worst. Can Beetlejuice help her? BL fic, R&R!
1. Chapter 1

Hey, y'all! My first Beetlejuice fic...um…yeah…don't own anything but the plot…. yadda yadda…. some things may be slightly different to help the story along…blah blah…aaaaand…oh, yeah, it's a BJ/Lyds pairing…don't like, don't read…and…uh…. at least five reviews for me to update! Thank you!

Prologue

Lydia Deetz walked quickly down the damp street, paranoia gripping her mind. Her silver stilettos tapped loudly with each step, making her wince. She wished she'd changed before she'd left the club. Even with her longest jacket on, the silver tails of her "uniform" leaked out the back, reflecting the harsh glow of the streetlights onto the darkened bricks. She stopped for only a moment to try to stuff them back into her coat, but halted any further movement as she heard heavy foot falls drawing near.

Lydia could smell him well before she laid eyes on him. His scent was drunken and dirty and made her gag. She turned and, as quickly as she could, fled to the left, down an alley, but to her horror, the man trailed along after her at the same speed. She shrieked as she tripped over her own feet and fell to the grimy, concrete ground. Gasping, she heard the telltale snap of a broken bone and felt a stabbing pain in the wrist that had broken her fall. Slowly, she turned to face her pursuer, eyes wide in fear. He stepped forward, but his face was still shadowed; in his right hand was a knife.

Frantic thoughts raced through her mind as she inched away from the threat, using only her legs and her left arm. She felt her back hit the wall and knew she wasn't going to make it out alive. All she had left to do was wait.

"Gimme yer bag, lady." He slurred stupidly.

"W-why?" she questioned fearfully, but suddenly gaining hope._ Just do what he tells you._

"Don't be stupid, you whores rake in tons of cash."

"I-I don't have much," she whimpered pitifully. _I left It all in the dressing room._

"Don't you lie t'me, Bitch!"

"I don't-I mean, I'm not!"

He advanced on the fearful young women and grabbed her purse greedily. He sifted through it, making frustrated noises. Finally, he poured the contents out onto the ground. Not even the clink of small change was heard. He looked at her, and though she couldn't see his face, she felt his fury. He crawled closer yet, her high-pitched protests in vain. On that night, Lydia's screams fell upon deaf ears as he had his way with her before taking her life…

"Dead? I'm seriously dead?" she asked the green haired ghoul at the front desk. Her nametag read, "Pyriseez" in bold letters.

"Yes, Doll. Dead. Stiff. Six feet under. You kicked the bucket. Now, if you'd be so kind as to _leave_"

"Sorry," Lydia huffed, "I'm just kind of new to the whole idea! I mean, I knew I'd passed out after that guy raped me, but-"

"Oh," Pyriseez exclaimed, " a rape victim! What was it like?"

"_Now _you're interested?"

"Well, you see, I died a virgin and-" she stopped upon seeing the look on Lydia's face.

"…I'll just be going now…" _freak…_

"Oh, I know! If you tell me all the ghastly, gruesome details, I'll give you one free transport pass!"

"…A what?"

"Err, stupid me," she said, thumping herself on the head, "you're new!"

"Yeah! That _is _what I've been trying to say for the passed," she checked her watch, but her clothes caught her eye.

"D-…do you have a mirror?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure! Over there, on the wall! I put it in myself!" she answered, now trying to be helpful.

Lydia shook as she walked to the full-length mirror and gapped at her reflection. She took her coat off to get a better look. Her skin was pale, if not a little blue. Her eyes were surrounded with the darkness that comes with being dead. Her shoulder length hair was damp looking and messy, falling in crimped pieces. She had bruises on her arms and legs, and a black eye. Above her right eye was a horizontal cut that bleed down her face. Her throat was slit and dripping more of the thick, red liquid onto her silver costume. The scantly there dancer's garb didn't hide any injury, as there were three red slashes in the fabric: stab wounds.

She heard a gasp behind her and though maybe she'd earned a small amount of sympathy from the obviously disturbed receptionist.

"Oh! You were a stripper, too? How exciting!" she began to ramble.

"What was a transportation pass, again?"

"You mean a transport pass? It'll take you anywhere in the Neither World! All you gotta do is ask it! It's only good for one time though; took me months to make enough money to buy one an-"

"Can I have it?" Lydia asked, thinking of the exact place she wanted to go.

"Only if you tell me your life story, Doll!"

So she told. And told some more for that matter. Even though she was telling some creepy ghost with no life, it felt good to get it out. Pyriseez listened with wide eyes, nodding occasionally. Gasping at the end, she asked questions.

"So, how old _are_ you?"

"Nineteen"

"Are you gonna use my lil' pass to go to that Beetle guy?"

"I was planning on it."

"Why'd you stop visiting him?"

"Six years ago, my parents moved us to a different country. Delia said her artwork would be more appreciated there. But the truth is, they found out about Beej and me. I was forbidden to see him. I got sick over that; he was my best friend, and they made me leave him. I didn't eat and, well… I ran away soon after, but…I was forced into my… current occupation."

"Huh, sad. Well here you go!" she gave her the pass.

"Um, d'you think I could change my clothes first? You know, clean up a bit?"

"No, not for another week. It has to do with accepting your fate or something, same happened to all of us."

"Oh…um…okay then…what about bathing?"

"For the first week, your hygiene's like…frozen, so don't worry about it."

"Okay, thank you for your help." And with that, Lydia left.

Tears filled her eyes as she looked about the familiar world. It'd been more of a home to her than any other place ever had, and she'd missed it terribly. Sniffing, she looked down at her newly obtained pass. There was a large rip at the side. She gasped as the rip widened and began to open and close, like a mouth.

"Aye, where're we off to, lass?" the slip of paper asked her.

"Uh-um…I mean, d'you know the Roadhouse?"

"Do I know it? Do I_ know it?_ I know every location in this-…never mind, is that your destination?"

"Yes…yes it is."

"Alrighty then, hold on!"

And with a loud thump, Lydia was on the doorstep of her childhood refuge; the pass in her hand crumbled into little pieces. With a sigh, she dusted herself off and tried to make herself presentable. She quickly gave up. Breathing shallowly, she lifted her left hand and knocked three times. After a momentary wait, a voice called, "Come in!" with a heavy French accent. Confused, she turned the doorknob and stepped inside. The house's only three occupants sat on the couch, boredly watching TV. _They…all look the same…_No one looked her way. She cleared her throat as tears once again clouded her vision. They turned their head simultaneously toward her and a look of surprise ran across their faces. It all looked so…planned.

"Oh, uh, hi," she started. They looked at her blankly. _Duh!_ She could've smacked herself. _Six plus years of absence, blood all over me…they don't know me! _Beetlejuice floated over to her and looked her up and down.

"Uh, Babes?" she looked hopeful; "I'm not sure who you are, but-" her face fell.

"Can I talk to you outside?' she interrupted. He looked back to his friends, shrugged, and complied. They walked outside, and as soon as the door shut behind them, she broke down.

"BJ," she cried, "I'm dead! I was raped!" she looked into his eyes, only to see more confusion.

"It's me, Beej! Lydia!"


	2. Chapter 2

AN: Sorry, late. Review please! At least five for an update! Thanks so much to you reviewers! I'll add a little thanks at the end of an upcoming chapter to each one of you.

You know, when I'd first started dancing at the _Indigo Flame_, I was _so _alone. I cried myself to sleep every night, that is, until my "boss", Mr. Pergulski, grew sick of it. From then on, tears brought punishment. No, not the "Oh darn! You're not paying me this week?" kind, the "Please stop! Don't! Please don't hurt me anymore!" kind. Gruesome, isn't it? On with the story…

So one day, someone from my past was brought to the club. Not someone I liked too well, but someone familiar nonetheless. Do you all remember a certain ditzy blonde that's always, for whatever reason, hated me? Her name kind of rhymes with "Fair," Yeah, _her_. We were put in the same room. Oh, let me explain that first. When you're "employed", you get a room in Pergulski's club. Being the newest girl there, I had my own room, but then Claire came… Oh, the look on her face was _priceless_! "Deetz? Lydia _Deetz?_ You're kidding, right?" And I would have laughed at her, too, if it weren't for her red, puffy eyes; the eyes of an emotionally wounded being. I kind of, well…. took her under my wing. I, being the more experienced woman in this situation, had the upper hand… But I knew I would never forgive myself if I allowed another, even _her_, to go through _that_.

I taught her everything she needed to know. Want to hear a real shocker? This sort of…bond formed. Her pride was wounded, heavily. The manager never lets us leave or venture out into daylight. What was I doing then, on the night of my death? We'll get to that later, be patient! Anyway, Claire's pretty tan started to fade and, get this…her roots were staring to show! Yeah, the Almighty Blonde Goddess wasn't even blonde. Her hair is naturally quite the vibrant red…do I sound like I'm gossiping?…God, I hope not. I'm just telling my story. The point is it seemed to…well…let's say, shrink her down to size. The hair thing, that is.

We made a really great pair, full of contrast, so said everyone else. We were roughly the same height and weight, but from then on, we were opposites. She had bright eyes and hair, while I had dark. Her skin was still naturally, lightly tanned, while mine was pale. Dark and Light. This gave Mr. P. a "great" idea. Silver and Gold. He paired us up on the stage, Claire wearing gold and me in silver. The crowd loved it. We were being sold to the public; stripped naked for the entire world to see. We loathed them…him…even, in time, ourselves. Why didn't we quit? We were threatened. Not with our own lives, but with those of our loved ones. Why weren't they searching for us? We wrote (with the manager looking over our shoulders) them letters, disconnecting from them, say we never wished to see their faces again. No return address. That night, Claire and I shed silent tears, the ones that no one punished you for. We held each other and rocked back and forth, back and forth, quieting one another if our sobs grew in volume. That night, we decided. I would sneak away and bring help. Funny how I was finally able to get away… and then I was killed within my first few moments of freedom. Isn't life just sick? Poor Claire…I wonder if she even knows…

You know what? I'm actually kind of happy I'm dead…oops, poor BJ, kind spaced on him. Ha, the look on his face! What'd I say to him?…oh yeah…It's me, Beej! Lydia! Wow, been gone all this time and I just space out like that…that's not like me. Probably just the post-death ADD kickin' in. Uh-oh…why's he look so mad?

"That's…that's not funny! What tactless jerk put ya up to that, huh?" I giggled through my tears.

"You're really one to talk about tact, Beetleju-mph!" My mouth just…zipped shut…literally.

"If you were her, you'd know not to say that so much!" he spat, and with a snap my zippered mouth was back to normal. I whipped my face of tears.

"Hey, I've only said in once, right? Listen, I've missed you. A lot. My parents found out about you and I was forbid-…you know what? I'm dead! I'm new to this and I could use a little support from my _best friend_ right now!" I seethed. He looked dumbfounded.

"Is it…really you? 'Cause if it ain't, you are one heartless bit-"

"Beetlejuice! Oops, that's twice. I wonder what happens if I say your name three times _now_." _That_ would be interesting…

"Lydia!" he looked positively joyous. He crushed me in a backbreaking hug and floated a few feet up. "You're here!" then he released me, looking struck. "You're dead!" he looked down at me, sprawled on the ground from the three-foot drop. I picked myself up.

"Yes, I suppose that _is _what I said." I raised an eyebrow at him.

"And uh," he came near me and put a hand to his ear, acting like it was some huge secret, "how'd that happen, again?"

"Do you ever listen?" I asked him impatiently. Grinning, he shook his head "no". "Well then, _you _will just have to guess." I tucked my hair behind my ears and straightened, giving him a full view of the mess that was my body. He looked me over and a grim look settled upon his pale face.

"Oh…Lyds…" I smiled warmly at him.

"It'll be alright, you'll help me now, won't you?"

He smiled weakly.


End file.
